


Where My Armor Ends

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (The canon one), Post-Season/Series 07, Season/Series 07, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, Terminal Illnesses, clone, self indulgent af
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-07-03 22:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15828585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: 1) Since saving the Earth from the Galra, Shiro settles in his new role as Captain of the Atlas.  It involves a number of changes he wasn't prepared for.2) When Shiro fused with his clone, he ended up in a body without a death sentence.  He knew that. But he didn't feel it, until it suddenly hits home. (If you're looking for Circling these Vultures, this is where it went, b/c I'm a dumbass)3) Shiro works up the courage to reach out to the Black Lion. Atlas has some problems with that.





	1. Chapter 1

"Captain, what are you doing?"

Shiro looked up from the projected screen, pausing at the sight of Veronica standing in front of him.  He hadn't noticed her there at all, lost in the logistics of running a ship. It wasn't more complicated that the coalition, of course, but it was still more than he'd expected of one ship.  The Castle of Lions had never housed more than ten people in his time there, and so he'd never had to deal with the sheer volume of needs that Atlas had.

The food  _ alone _ was making Shiro's head spin.  He'd forgotten about it completely until he'd started to go through the reports and requests.  After two years, it had slipped his mind that all ships didn't come equipped with food goo dispensers.  Now they had no such luxury.

There was so much to do before they could head out into deep space.

So it was strange that Veronica was raising her eyebrow like that.

Shiro looked down at his screen, then up at her, like that would change her expression.  "I was checking over our supplies."

"I'm aware," Veronica said, utterly flat.  "In fact, I'm aware because our quartermaster messaged me to demand I stop changing her paperwork."

Oh.  A quartermaster.  Right. They had one of those.  Shiro had signed the paperwork on giving her access and everything.  Among the dozens of other people he'd agreed to be part of the Atlas' crew, including the woman standing right in front of him.

Shiro cleared his throat.  His stomach churned like he'd done something wrong, but he didn't know why.  Something about Veronica's straight posture and direct stare just made him feel that way.  "I didn't change much. Mostly I was looking through before approving it. I apologize, I can change it back if necessary."

Still eyeing him, Veronica pressed her lips thin.  "Was there a problem with the supplies, Captain? If you think there's an issue, I can speak to the quartermaster for you."

"No, not particularly.  I was thinking more food would be wise in case we go longer without reaching friendly planets.  But now that we're getting a teleduv installed, it isn't such an issue." Shiro reverted the supply list back to an earlier version, and sent off a quick message of apology to the quartermaster for startling her.

The explanation didn't seem to soothe Veronica.  She looked him up and down, then sighed. "With all due respect, Sir... You're not used to this, are you?"

Shiro froze.

"It depends on what you mean," he said, forcing his voice to remain neutral.  "A crew of this size is new, but I spent over a year as the leader of Voltron, and I've been one of the organizers of the coalition."

But compared to most of the people in the Garrison, that was a laughable amount of experience.  He also had the leadership experience of heading a flight to Mars, but in hindsight that felt like a PR stunt rather than a real mission.  He'd brought some important, delicate machinery over with two fellow graduates. He'd been mission commander of an errand, really.

The bridge had made Shiro Captain as a spur of the moment decision.  He was the one who knew the Galra and Voltron best, other than the civilian alien, and so he was the best person in that moment.  Since then, no one had challenged that claim. At least, not to Shiro's face.

That might not last.

Veronica's brows drew together, an expression of concern that made her look startlingly like her brother.  Then she shook her head and gestured around. "That's what I mean. You're used to a very small group. Like Keith is doing now.  Or else you're used to a big picture position, where you direct forces but aren't able to manage the specifics. Am I right about that?"

"Yes."  Shiro straightened up and took a deep breath.  If he was going to have to defend himself, he wanted to do it with dignity.

"Permission to be blunt, Sir?"

"Always.  And call me Shiro."

Veronica eyed him over the top of her glasses.  She looked very much like she wanted to snort, but didn't dare to.  "You're micromanaging like a worried mother, Shiro."

...What?

Shiro's mouth fell open.  "Excuse me?"

"This is not your job."  Veronica pointed to the projected screens.  "It's not until it goes to you for approval.  Neither is assigning rooms, which Commander Iverson mentioned you were doing."

Well, yes, but Shiro had the best sense of where the rooms were, and how that translated when Atlas was transformed.  He had a mental map of the ship that wasn't quite natural, and stemmed from whatever fledgling bond he'd formed. So why shouldn't Shiro be the one to do so?

Veronica adjusted her glasses and folded her free arm behind her back, the same posture she'd used while giving bad news about supplies to the Admiral.  "I understand that you were in a position where everyone had to do everything. The Voltron team is incredibly small, there wasn't as much room for specialization of duties.  With all due respect, Shiro, you’re working with people who have jobs they're specifically trained to do. I'm not sure you've ever been in a position to delegate."

She wasn't wrong.

But that didn't mean it was comfortable to hear.

Delegate.  It sounded like a dirty word.  It  _ had  _ been a dirty word for the past two years.  Shiro was the one with leadership experience.  He was an officer and they were cadets. Everyone already did so much, especially poor Coran, Pidge, and Hunk.  Why would Shiro pass on any of his duties to them? Especially when he was probably the most effective at doing so.

Now-

Well, things had changed.  Shiro had a crew of Garrison officers, many of whom were older and more experienced than him.  Until a month or so ago, a lot of them had outranked him.

But what was Shiro supposed to do?  He had paperwork and approvals, yes, and he'd been managing the crew as best he could. But they did their jobs, and it left Shiro wondering how to fill his time.  He had hours in the day where there was nothing pressing to do.

He opened his mouth to say so, but then stopped.  When he tried to put the words in order, he could imagine how Veronica was going to respond.

Having free time was  _ normal. _  Expected.  Healthy.

Shiro just wasn't sure what to do with it.

"You're right," he said grudgingly, resting his hand on the controls.  The screen winked out. "This isn't a situation I'm used to anymore. Thank you for reminding me, Lieutenant."

Veronica's lips quirked up.  Apparently Shiro's less that gracious tone was amusing rather than intimidating.  Which was just great. "If you keep asking me to call you Shiro, I would hope you would call me Veronica."

... That felt stranger than calling Commander Holt 'Sam'.  Shiro had been managing that one so far. Thankfully, Commander Iverson had never asked Shiro to use 'Mitch'.  He wasn't sure what he'd do in that situation.

"Veronica," he said, mostly to test out the name.

Rocking on her feet, Veronica just smirked.  

This whole situation was definitely not textbook.  He could think of at least a couple of Admirals who would have kittens hearing this kind of exchange.  

But, dammit, Shiro was going to be living with these people in close quarters for months, maybe even years.  Atlas was going to act as the new Castle of Lions, and that meant spending most of their time in deep space on other planets.  So, screw 'Sir' and screw titles. Voltron had worked because they respected each other and their positions on the team without that nonsense, and it fostered a healthy relationship in their off hours.  

If the Galaxy Garrison (or the International Galaxy Foundation, whichever) didn't like it, then they could come drag Shiro out of his ship.   Good luck finding anyone else who could bond with Atlas.

"Did you need anything else?" Shiro finally asked.  He spoke to the console rather than directly to Veronica.  There was an itch under his skin, a need to find something worthwhile to do.  But apparently he needed something that didn't involve messing with the quartermaster's paperwork.

Shiro needed a  _ hobby. _

What a weird thought.  Even before Kerberos, Shiro had never had much free time.  He had so much he wanted to accomplish in a few short years, so he didn't have time to rest on his laurels and do nothing.

It had been a common complaint of Ad-

Well.

Veronica shook her head.  "No, Si- Shiro. Did you need anything from me?"

"No, you're free.  If the quartermaster asks, you can tell her I won't repeat this mistake unless I have a serious concern, and I'll bright it up directly."  Shiro straightened up. "Thank you for bringing their complaints to my attention."

"No trouble at all."  Veronica hesitated, looking him over.  "If you don't have anywhere else to be, I know my brother is still in the hangars with the rest of the paladins.  I'm sure they'd appreciate your company."

Shiro paused, looking her over.  "They're still arguing?"

"From Lance's texts?  Yes."

Oh, boy.

Well, it was better than being bored and anxious.  By a large margin.

Shiro nodded, straightening up again. "I'll do that, then.  Thank you."

Smiling, Veronica adjusted her glasses.  "Good. Maybe I'll get something done without Lance texting me every two minutes."  She looked him over one more time. "Just remember that we're here for you, Captain."  She managed to make the title sound like a fond nickname.

"I know."  Really, Shiro did.  He was just adjusting.  Or, rather, trying not to feel like he was screwing up by adjusting.  "I'll see you later, Lieutenant."

With that, he set off down the hall at a faster clip than was strictly necessary.  As he walked, each non-alien member of the crew stopped to snap off a salute. Shiro smiled and nodded back, but he didn't stop his pace.   It was habit, one that he still felt as well. He'd figure out what to do about that later.

For now...

It was a short walk to the bridge to either of the main two hangars.  One was already set up for the MFE pilots, complete with their chargers and landing stations, along with the space for the staff needed to maintain them.  There were two others which were supposed to be for supplies and boarding. But the Atlas had never been designed to house Voltron lions, and so one had been hastily repurposed to allow them to land and charge as well.

The transition was, well...

It was taking some getting used to.

As soon as the door opened, raised voices became audible.

"-does it really matter?" Keith asked.  He had his helmet balanced on his hip, while he rubbed over the bridge of his nose.

Lance threw up both of his hands.  "Yes, it matters! We're going to have to fly in here hundreds of times.  Maybe thousands, even! I'm not doing this over and over for years to come."

Frowning, Hunk glanced between them both, clutching his helmet tightly in both hands.  "It's not that bad, is it?"

"I mean no offense, Hunk, but we were waiting around for four doboshes outside the doors."  Allura said. "That's not acceptable in a battle situation."

Hunk frowned.  "But if we're coming in, the battle's probably over, right?"  

"Not always." Lance said.  He gestured wildly toward the hangar doors, as if there was a Galra cruiser right outside.  "What if we're trying to get inside to run away from something?"

"How often do we run away from anything?"

Shiro cleared his throat, which made all five of the paladins jump.  "Is there a problem?"

Jaw set, Keith shook his head.  "No problem. We're just getting used to our landing order."

"Yes, there is a problem!"  Lance scowled at Keith.

"It's  _ fine. _  It's only taking so long since we're getting used to landing in the new charging stations.  Hunk will get faster!"

Pidge rolled her eyes at all of them, then turned to face Shiro.  "With the way the Atlas is designed, we can only fly one lion in at a time.  Right now, Hunk is going in before Allura and Lance. He's, uh... finicky."

Hunk shrugged back, his bottom lip jutting out.  "It's a really small platform! You have to be right on top of it.  So it takes me a second."

"Four dobashes is not a second," Allura muttered.  "It's 200 ticks."

Shiro opened his mouth to offer an alternative, but then caught Keith's eye and shut it.  This wasn't his command anymore. It wasn't his place. He trusted Keith to have reasons for putting them in that order.  Maybe he'd bring it up later, but Veronica was right. He couldn't be micromanaging everyone anymore. "I'm sure you can figure it out.  If you need the stations moved around, we might be able to do that."

That made the whole group pause.  "You can?" Hunk asked, eyes wide. "Is this one of those Atlas things?  Can you move the charging stations around with your mind? Can we see?"

Pidge's eyes lit up.  "That's something you can do?  Shiro, you have to show us! Let me pull up Atlas' energy readings."  She whipped out her tablet and turned it on, buzzing with eager energy.

Lips quirking up, Shiro held up a hand and closed his eyes.

There was an eager, anticipatory silence.

Then Shiro smirked and dropped his hand.  "Actually, I meant you could ask Slav to move it for you."

He was rewarded with a chorus of groans.  "That was rude," Allura said, though there was laughter in her voice.  "You know we're ignorant about what this ship is capable of."

"You know as much as I do," Shiro said.  "Maybe that will be possible someday. Right now, I have a pretty good sense of what rooms are where, and I can tell the ship when to turn into a robot.  We don't know much else about what the crystal has enabled Atlas to do."

There was something there.  Shiro felt a bond, but not like he had as a paladin.  It wasn't the same, smothering, marrow-deep connection he'd kept with Black after being pulled from the Astral Plane.  What had once been a comfort had turned hypersensitive, like drowning in quicksand. Atlas was less clear. Amorphous.  

Lance made a face.  "It might be worth it to get blown up to not deal with Slav."

"No one is going to get blown up!"  Keith sighed. "We just need practice."

"We already practiced a ton today," Pidge groaned, slumping in place.  "I have projects to work on before we leave Earth again."

Shiro cleared his throat.  "I also seem to remember getting doctor's notes.  Something about needing to take time for rest and recovery?"

Lance looked Shiro dead in the eye.  Then he snorted and rolled his eyes. "That’s pretty rich, coming from you." He drawled.

Pausing, Shiro stared at him.  He'd gotten a lot of backtalk and complaining from Lance in the past, but never in that kind of tone.  It was borderline derisive, and certainly disrespectful. "Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying, that's a lot of tough talk from the guy who got thrown out of a crashing ship."  Lance arched a brow, then gestured up and down at Shiro. "You really have room to be throwing around doctor notes, here?"

Shiro's mouth fell open.  What had brought on this change of tone?  He wasn't the Black Paladin anymore, true, but he wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve this change.  Why was Lance acting like this? Had Shiro said something to bother him?

"It is somewhat hypocritical of you, Shiro," Allura agreed, though her tone was much more even.

Pidge shook her head as she put away her tablet.  "Aww, be nice to him. Did you see him biting back the urge to fuss earlier?  He's being good. We should be rewarding this behavior."

Now they were all in on it. Why were they all acting like this?  Was it because Shiro wasn't a paladin anymore?

The thought still stung, even if Shiro was enjoying his new position.  They were Voltron and he wasn't, now, but he'd still felt like part of the team.  He was one of them even when he wasn't piloting a lion.

Or so he'd assumed.  Maybe they saw it differently.

"If you'd rather I leave you be, I can do that," Shiro finally said, only barely keeping his tone even.

"You're fine, Shiro," Keith said.  Some of his distress must have peeked through, because his expression went soft.

Hunk nodded and reached over to pat Shiro on the arm.  "Nah, man, you're always welcome. But you're even more welcome if you talk to Slav for us.  He listens to you better than to us."

Going very still, Shiro stared him right back down.  "I don't think so."

"Worth a shot."  Hunk turned to Keith, his bottom lip stuck out.  "Shiro says we can't practice anymore. Can we go work on our own projects, now?"

Sighing, Keith closed his eyes but nodded.  "Yeah, go on. We have time to get used to the new situation.  If it really doesn't work, we'll figure something out."

"Awesome."  Pidge threw her bag over her shoulder and set off at a job, Hunk on her heels.  They were gone with little more than a wave, already chattering about their latest project.

Allura watched them go with open amusement, then she turned to Shiro.  "Do you happen to know where Coran has gotten off to?"

"Last I checked, Sam was taking him and Romelle to the commissary to try more Earth foods."

Allura's eyes lit up.  "Oh! Yes, I think I'll head that way.  Hopefully they're still experimenting." She turned to Keith and offered a flash of a smile.  "We'll figure it out soon enough." With that, she made her way out as well.

"She means you'll see it our way," Lance drawled, but he was smiling.  He laced his fingers together and stretched his arms out behind him. The joints of his shoulders cracked in a thoroughly disgusting way.  "You kids have fun, now."

Shiro opened his mouth to make a comment about Lance's constant texting to Veronica, but he bit it back.  Right now, he wasn't sure Lance wouldn't take it the wrong way. Clearly, something was wrong, and Shiro should fix that first before making more smart remarks.

Once the doors closed, Shiro turned to Keith.  "Did I say something insulting?"

Keith's brows rose to his hairline.  "What? No, of course you didn't. Why?"

Gesturing toward the hallway, Shiro shook his head.  "I don't know. I just want to know how I made everyone so upset."

"No one was upset."  Keith frowned at him and rested a hand on Shiro's elbow.  "Are you okay? Did the crew say something to you?"

Shiro shook his head slowly, just as baffled as Keith looked.  "No, they didn't. The others didn't seem mad to you? They were..."  He trailed off, trying to word it without seeming whiny or ridiculous.  "Different."

There was a long pause as Keith mentally reviewed the conversation.  

Finally, Keith looked up and met Shiro's eyes.  His lips twitched, then curled up at the edges. "Ah. I get it.  They talked to you like they talk to me."

...What?

Shiro opened his mouth to argue, but then paused.  He went back over the conversation in his mind, comparing how Lance had talked back to Shiro to how Lance argued with Keith.

The tones were very, very similar.  Identical, even. And Allura's more even disagreement had been the same as well.

What did that mean, then?

Rubbing over his face, Shiro took a deep breath, then let it out.  "I didn't realize the difference between us both was that stark until now."  He knew that they didn't speak to Keith like they did to Shiro, because Keith hadn't always been in a leadership position.  It was natural that they had a different dynamic, since he had been their peer for so long. But actually being the subject of that kind of tone was a totally different experience, and Shiro wasn't sure what to make of it.

Keith just shrugged.  "Yeah, well, I don't act like anything other than me.  You're being different, too." When Shiro startled, Keith held out his hand, just as Shiro had earlier.  "Messing with us like that? I've seen you pull that kind of crap before, but I don't think any of them have."

Shiro crossed his arms, wincing at how awkward that still felt without his right bicep.  "Ah. I see."

He didn't really see.

Softening, Keith nudged their shoulders together.  Now that he'd grown, they were almost even. "It's a good thing, Shiro, I promise.  You're not acting like you can't have fun, and they're not treating you like a commanding officer anymore.  I mean, you kind of are by rank, but it's different."

"I'm not one of you," Shiro finished, voice flat.

Keith's eyes went wide.  Then he reeled back and punched Shiro on his left shoulder.  "No! You're  _ exactly _ one of us.  Who cares if you fly a lion or the Atlas?  You're a paladin, same as always. You're one of us-us, now.  You're not keeping a leaderly distance from us anymore, and they're not acting like you're an officer behind a plane of glass.  You're just a like us. An equal. Which means you get shit just like everyone else."

Oh.  

Huh.

Shiro had taken the tone switch personally, true.  Something had changed, and he'd automatically assumed it was negative.  That said more about him than the others.

To know he was still part of the team, and maybe even closer than he had been before...

Shiro didn't know how to begin to articulate the warm feeling in his chest.

"Ah.  I think I understand."  He swallowed hard, then smiled at Keith.  "Thanks. I was kind of being an idiot."

"Yeah, but you're our idiot."  Keith smiled back, warm and at ease with himself.  Even weeks later, it was still startling to see how much more centered he was.  Those two years with his mother had done him well.

Rolling his eyes, Shiro knocked his shoulder back, just to prove he could still make Keith rock on his feet.  "Takes one to know one."

"Oh, wow, haven't heard that one since I was ten."  Keith's eyes roamed over the hangar, taking in all of the lions in their new spaces.  "We're really going to have to figure this out before we head out."

Shiro followed his gaze, his eyes locking inevitably on the Black Lion.  "You will. You've overcome far worse than Hunk being nervous about landing."

Barking out a laugh, Keith nodded.  "Yeah, it's just odd to share the space.  It's like sharing dorm rooms again. Not a lot of fun."

"If moving them around doesn't work, maybe we can split you guys up?"  Shiro considered, doing some mental calculations. "We could put half of MFE in here, and half of Voltron there.  That way you have two hangars to get in and out of. The little planes don't take us as much space as the lions.

Keith wrinkled his nose in clear distaste.  "We'll put that as plan F."

Smirking, Shiro left it at that.  It was a possible solution, but mostly he just wanted to tease Keith.  He and Griffin had put their previous conflicts behind them to be professional, but making them share a hangar would probably lead to disaster. 

They stood for a moment, the silence familiar and comfortable.  Then Keith nodded to him. "While we're here, do you want to see Black?"

Shiro's breath paused.  He swallowed hard as his eyes snapped right back to the Black Lion.  It was tempting. Black had been his source of self-worth for so long, a constant validation that he wasn't a monster, and he was more than the Galra had tried to make him.

But that hadn't always been healthy, either.  When the lion hadn't worked for the clone, it had sent him on a spiral that had nearly damaged the closest friendship Shiro had.  Losing it with no explanation had made Shiro wonder if he was broken after all.

The connection was still there, but it was different since being pulled out.  It buzzed under his skin like a live wire, thrummed through him like the bass at a concert.  An organic being like him wasn't meant to have existed the way he did for those months.

Shiro had needed distance.  Still did, really, though not as violently as he had before.

Maybe, though, for old time's sake-

Something inside Shiro's arm  _ tugged. _

He took a step back, regaining his balance like someone had physically yanked him backward.

"That a no?"  Keith turned to face him, eyes bright with concern.  "I thought it had gotten better."

"It has." Shiro glanced behind him, looking for the source of the tug.  But nothing was around to grab him, and it hadn't been  _ really _ physical.  More like an invisible force and pushed and pulled at the same time.  Very strange. "I just felt odd for a moment."

That was the wrong thing to say, because Keith immediately crowded into Shiro's space.  "The others were right. You're still recovering too. When did you last take a break?"

Shiro frowned.  "I took lunch. A full half an hour."

"Your lunch break is an hour long."

"I was  _ bored." _  Shiro sighed as he was shoved out the door and down the hall.  "I shouldn't be lying around on the job. I'm the Captain, I have responsibilities."

Keith only huffed at him.  "What do you need to do right now that you can't do from a chair?"

Shiro's sullen silence spoke for itself.

"That's what I thought."  Keith shoved him on the back, moving him along.  "Your rooms."

"Fine, fine."  As he was shooed along, Shiro thought back to the strange feeling.  It had seemed so real in the moment, but the more he thought about it, the weirder it was.  Maybe he'd just gotten dizzy and lost his balance? Teetering backward suddenly could have felt like a shove while he was distracted.  The doctors had warned him about too much physical exertion until he was fully recovered. Despite being released, it would take weeks to be back to his normal self.

On days like this, Shiro really missed the pod.

That in mind, he obligingly let Keith fuss him onto the couch, completely with a blanket draped over his lap.  In the interest of keeping Shiro in place, he even convinced Keith to settle in next to him and pick a TV show to catch up on.

He'd figure it out later.

Right now, Shiro had paperwork.

Yay.

***

The door to the crystal housing unit opened before Shiro could even raise his hand.  

That kept happening.  The longer Atlas was active, the more responsible and functional the ship became.  It wasn't just the ability to transform into a robot - the crystal had changed the ship in dozens of tiny ways.   Lights adjusted automatically depending on the hour and need. The temperature of any room altered to suit whoever was inside.  Shiro was pretty sure that even the humidity had changed.

Amazing, all of it.  Shiro couldn't be happier with his ship.  Every time someone from Earth exclaimed over how responsive Atlas was, pride bubbled up in Shiro's chest.  He hadn't made Atlas, and he hadn't been part of installing the crystal. But she was  _ his _ ship.  They were connected, even if he couldn’t articulate their strange new bond.

As Shiro stepped into the room, the lights brightened, shifting to a pale blue like the Castle of Lions.  Inside, Allura and Coran stood in front of the crystal, screens in front of each.

"Do you mind if I interrupt?  I know you're busy."

Both started and turned.  "Oh!" Allura offered him a smile and rested her hand on the console.  "Of course, Shiro. What do you need?"

Coran snapped off a salute, his wrist bent at nearly a 45 degree angle.  It was a habit he'd picked up from the various members of the Galaxy Garrison, but one he wasn't at all interested in having corrected.  Shiro suspected he did it wrong on purpose just to irritate the officers. "Captain."

"Enough," Shiro groaned.  He rolled his eyes and waved off Coran.  "That's not remotely necessary. You didn't call me 'Lieutenant' before."

Coran only shrugged, the edges of his mustache pulled up.  "I didn't know that I should have been. I'm correcting for lost time."

Sighing, Allura shook her head.  "Ignore him, Shiro. This is not an argument you can win.  He practiced on my parents for decapheobs."

Shiro eyed Coran one last time, who only smiled back blandly.  "Right. I just had a question about my arm, if you have a few minutes.  I know you're preparing for the tests this afternoon, but I hope this won't take long."

Immediately, Allura straightened and set her shoulders.  "Is something wrong?"

"Wrong is a very strong word."  Shiro held out his right hand toward her, palm up.  "Yesterday it acted strangely. It was only for a second, but it was startling.  I want to make sure it's not going to have problems like with the first power source."

Nodding, Allura took hold of the arm in her hands.  Despite it being several extra feet away from him, Shiro could feel her fingers and palm on his forearm.  It was more sensitive than the Galra version had been, which he was slowly getting used to. 

"What happened?  Is this the first time it's acted up?"  Allura asked.

Shiro pressed his lips thin and nodded.  "This is the first time. It, uh... pulled on me.  That's all."

Saying it aloud highlighted just how petty his complaint was.  Shiro's arm had pulled him back once in the entire month and change.  Considering the sheer functionality, that was so minor it barely deserved being brought up.

But Shiro was trying to learn his lessons.  He really was. Keeping strange symptoms to himself had resulted in him being controlled by Haggar and nearly killing everyone.  Allura had been the one to make this arm, and the Garrison doctors had done their best to remove all the metal from the previous ones.  But Shiro wasn't going to risk it again. He couldn't afford to hurt anyone like that again. 

Thankfully, Allura didn't seem to find his complaint as ridiculous as it sounded.   "Pulled how? Did it try to separate further from the base? Did it not want to move with you?"  She frowned thoughtfully and rolled the arm over in her fingers. Shiro bit his lip, distracted by the tickling sensation of human-like fingers on what felt like his inner elbow.

Shiro shook his head.  "No, it yanked me backward.  The arm moved, and the magnetic tug brought me with it."

"I see."  Allura's brow furrowed as she set the arm down on the console.  She had to hold it down to keep it from floating back to Shiro while she plugged it in.  "Where was this?"

"The hangars.  It was while I was speaking with Keith right after your practice."

Humming, Allura nodded.  Her screens changed views, showing the process of downloading information from Shiro's arms.  "Were you doing anything in particular? Trying to move around the ship again?"

Shiro's lips quirked up.  He stepped closer so that he could watch what she was doing, and so the pull on his arm wouldn't be so strong.  "No, just talking about the lions. He was teasing me, mostly. A theme of the afternoon."

Coran moved so he could peer at the screens as well.  He flipped open the compartment at the top and peered inside.  "The gem hasn't been knocked out of alignment."

"I'm not seeing any power spikes or strange readings, either."  Allura scrolled through the screens, frowning. "Pidge and Hunk might have better luck with this part.  Or you, Coran. Trade with me?"

They switched places, Coran reading and Allura examining the arm itself.  Both seemed absorbed in their work, so Shiro rocked on his heels, trying to remain patient.  He had hoped they would have an easy answer for him, rather than interrupting them for so long.

Allura's hands glowed as she held her palm over the crystal.  It flared pink in response, shining from inside the arm.

So did Atlas' crystal.

Freezing, Allura clenched her fingers, stopping whatever she was doing.  The glow cut off on the gem in Shiro's arm, and a couple of seconds later, Atlas' crystal changed back to blue as well.

"Huh," Coran said, his brows up.  "That's interesting."

Shiro looked between his arm and the floating tube.  "I'm assuming it's not supposed to do that. Why is my arm connected to the ship?"

"I'm not sure." Allura frowned and repeated the action.  Just as before, when the arm gem lit up, so did Atlas' crystal.  

This time, a shiver ran through Shiro's arm.  The lights in the room brightened to a nearly painful degree before settling down.

"I felt that," Shiro murmured.  He flexed his fingers, then clenched them tightly.  

Coran's brows rose.  "Your arm can sense magic?"

Slowly, Shiro shook his head.  "No. It happened when Atlas reacted.  I think the ship felt it, and my arm reacted to that."

"The gem in my crown was made from leftover material in the inter-dimensional meteor," Allura said slowly.  "Processed and refined until it was... well, until it looked like a piece of jewelry. I've never felt it react to magic or a lion bond."

Shiro watched his fingers curl, head tilted.  "But your crown wasn't wired into your nervous system, either."

"No, it certainly wasn't."  Allura crinkled her nose, looking uncomfortable at the idea.  Which was certainly understandable. "It does make sense that your arm could reflect your connection to Atlas.  I don't know what that has to do with the pull you felt, though."

Shiro thought back carefully and came up with nothing.  They had just been talking. "Or Keith is right and I was just tired."

That drew a smile out of Coran.  "Maybe Atlas was trying to tell you to rest, then?"

"Maybe."  But the tug hadn't been in the direction of Shiro's rooms.  It had just been  _ back. _  Like it had wanted to get him away from the lions.  But why? He'd been standing there for a solid ten minutes by the time he felt the pull.  What had changed?

It took very little effort for Shiro to wiggle his arm free of Allura's loose grip.  It snapped back into place. Shiro closed the compartment to the gem, then paused before unplugging himself.  "Have you looked over everything?"

"Yes, you can take that out."  Coran took the cord back from Shiro and fed it back into the console.  "I know this explanation isn't satisfying, but it's also possible it was nothing.  Atlas is undergoing constant changes, even now. Your bond connects you in unique ways, especially considering how your new arm factors in.  Maybe something shifted in Atlas, and your arm moved with it?"

Honestly, that was the best reason Shiro had heard so far.  He worked the mechanical wrist and nodded. "That would make sense.  I can't think of any good reason why I would be pulled at that particular moment."  

"If you feel it again, please let us know."  Allura folded her hands in front of her and smiled.  "Thank you for bringing it up to us, Shiro. I know that isn't easy for you, and I'm pleased that you found us so quickly."

Shiro offered a bland smile.  "Yes, well, I don't have excuses for ignoring strange symptoms with my arm anymore, do I?"

Eyes wide, Allura stared at him.  "That was not what I meant."

"I know."  Shiro shook himself and straightened.  His fingers brushed idly over the gem compartment again, worrying the edges.

Inside was the last piece of Voltron's meteor.  The symbol of Allura's status on her country. And she'd sacrificed it for Shiro.

Allura was a princess.  Shiro had never managed to forget, all too aware of her status and how he should behave around her.  He hadn't been there - as himself or as the clone - for her transition into a paladin. He'd heard stories later, but he hadn't been there.

It was a huge change, to go from the princess and wound-be commander of the Castle of Lions to being the blue paladin.  She'd chosen to sacrifice her hierarchy and take a place in the team.

She also seemed happier for it.  The team wasn't just her subjects.  They were her friends, including how they teased and joked and flirted.

"I hope I didn't offend you," Allura said carefully, when Shiro didn't continue or look away.  She reached out and rested a gentle hand on his left forearm. "It wasn't meant to be criticism.  I'm simply pleased to know you trust me with these things."

Shiro startled, focusing back on the present.  "Yes, I know. Sorry, I was just lost in thought."  He hesitated, then slowly, cautiously, spread his arms out further in an invitation for a hug.  "Thank you, Allura. For the arm, and for everything."

Allura looked him over, eyes wide.  Then she threw herself into his chest and squeezed hard enough to make his rips creak.  "Thank you as well. I'm very proud of you,  _ Captain." _

"Oh, don't you start too."

"You've been calling me 'Princess' since we met.  I think it's about time I got to return the favor."

Before Shiro could argue, another body crashed into them. Coran enthusiastically joined in the hug.  He seemed less interested in an embrace and more focused on crushing them both. "You've all grown up so much."

Shiro coughed, trapped between two different powerful hugs.  "Thank you, Coran," he managed through his teeth. "Can I breathe, now?"

Coran obligingly backed off, though he didn't stop grinning for a moment.  He wiped a dramatic tear from under his eye. "Ah, apologizes."

"Yes, I'm sure you're very sorry."  Allura pulled away as well, though there was a pleased flush to her cheeks.  "Don't hesitate to ask if you need anything else, Shiro."

Shiro nodded and managed a thin smile.  "I'll try." That was the best he could offer.  "I've taken enough of your time already. Are you all set for this afternoon?"

Nodding, Coran moved back to his screens.  "We're nearly finished already. There's actually not much to be done other than to take a baseline of how Atlas functions.  We'll know if the transformation changes any new parts of the ship on the second transformation."

That was all Shiro could ask.  With this much magic, it was hard to have concrete answers.  But the military was the military, and they wanted a version of events that fit onto a two page report.

"Thank you.  I'll leave you to it, and I'll see you on the bridge this afternoon."  Shiro waved as he said his goodbyes. Just before the door closed, his eyes caught on Atlas' crystal.

So many strange changes to his life, and so many of them were tied to that floating, glowing shard of condensed mass.

Shiro held his arm to his chest and concentrated on the strange, fledgling bond.

Nothing happened.

It had been too much to hope for, anyway.

Straightening up, Shiro turned and headed down the hall.

There was work to be done.

***

The bridge was filled to capacity.

Not only were the usual members of the crew there, but so were the rest of Team Voltron, and the MFE pilots.  In addition, there was also Matt Holt, Krolia, and Kolivan, representing the Blade of Marmora and the rebel alliance respectively.  On the far wall, two Galaxy Garrison admirals stood, speaking in low voices to each other.

Fifteen extra people in the relatively small room didn't offer a lot of personal space.

Shiro stood in position, both hands flat against the console, and did his best to look straight at his screens.  He wasn't responsible for monitoring anything but the bond with Atlas. But he didn't want to look like he was just standing around and goofing off.

This wasn't even everyone who wanted to be here.  There had been hundreds, maybe thousands, of requests to be part of this test.  They weren't even going anywhere. Just high enough to transform the ship and be sure of functionality and actually run tests.

Ahead of them, visible on Shiro's screen, were dozens of vans.  Most of them had some sort of broadcast dish on top. Just in front of that, a crowd had formed, mostly in pairs of reporters and camera people.  Shiro also knew that there were a handful of officials out there, from the countries that could scrape together enough functionality to send a representative.

The world was watching. 

No pressure.

Intellectually, Shiro knew what Atlas represented and why everyone was so excited to watch and take part.  The last time the ship had transformed, it had been in the middle of the fight with Sendak. The Galra had taken control of almost all the infrastructure on Earth, and forced much of the population into work camps.  The only cameras that had been able to watch were the ones the Galaxy Garrison were using to monitor the situation, and a few, grainy satellites that someone had managed to get access to. It was the equivalent of watching a natural disaster on just a tiny cell phone camera.

This was the first time that the rest of the world got to see what Earth had created, how human ingenuity had saved the day.  The lions and Voltron were amazing - colorful and huge, powerful and ancient. But they were alien. Atlas was  _ theirs, _ and Earth wanted to see the champion of their own design.

Shiro hadn't been happy to hear that word in a very long time.  But here he was.

Taking a deep breath, Shiro checked the clock.  It was just a little over five minutes to take off, now.  The chatter in the room got louder the closer the time came.  The very air felt electric and heavy.

Why was this more intimidating than fighting Sendak?

At least then, Shiro hadn't had a chance to think.  It had been fly or be killed. Do something or watch his team die.  So Shiro just had. They all had.

A hand settled between Shiro's shoulders.  "You alright, Captain?"

Shiro jumped, then tensed to try and make sure no one saw it.  In a room this crowded, he doubted it, but Shiro had his dignity to protect.

Turning to Iverson, Shiro nodded and straightened up.  "I am, Sir." Then he paused and resisted a wince. "Commander."

Iverson's lip quirked up, just as amused as ever at Shiro's constant slips.  "Don't forget to breathe. It'd be a shame to delay take-off because our captain passed out."

"I won't," Shiro protested.  He even managed not to make it sound like a whine.   He darted his eyes over to where the admirals stood, then back away.  Brows up, Iverson repeated the gesture, then stared Shiro down, still openly amused.

Yes, well, maybe Shiro was a little nervous of the actual brass in the room, judging him in particular.  He hadn't had much luck with commanding officers finding him worthy of the position he wanted previously.  Admiral Sandra had been bad enough.

Something of that must have shown over his face, because Iverson clapped him on his left arm.  "There's nothing to worry about, Captain." Then he lowered his voice and leaned in, so there was no chance of anyone else hearing.  "If they have doubts, they'll be convinced soon. I was, and you know how stubborn I am."

Shiro's heart jolted.  He hadn't expected Iverson to actually bring up his past objections, much less in this context.  Even now, the public mention of his disease sent a jolt of fear through him. The other paladins were  _ right there, _ and Shiro had never gotten around to telling any of them but Keith.  Now that it wasn't an issue anymore, he'd really rather keep it that way.

Even so, he did appreciate the vote of confidence, especially from the man who had originally called the Admiral in on him.  

Shiro nodded and swallowed hard.  "Thank you."

"Just the truth."  Iverson nodded and backed off.  "Besides, it's not their call. No one else can do what you do, Captain.  That's why you're where you are now. We knew you were the right man for the job, and now you have the ultimate job security."

Shiro looked down at his right arm, where the little gem was hidden.  He reached again for the bond he felt with Atlas and found it. This time, it thrummed under his mental touch, like a guitar string being rhythmically plucked.

This was his.  It worked because he'd had such a close bond with his lion, and because he was connected to the crystal through that little gem.

No one could take this away from Shiro.  It was his. 

"That's a good way of looking at it."  Shiro picked his head up and gave Iverson a steadier smile.  "You're right."

Iverson nodded and stepped back.  "That I am. You'd do well to remember it."  He tapped at the side of his temple, then nodded and stepped back to his station.  Apparently he felt that his job was done.

Well, Shiro definitely felt like crushingly nervous, so that helped.

As he turned to check the time again, there was a blur of blue in the corner of his eyes.  Shiro stepped out of the way just as Lance nearly crashed into him. His right arm flew out to catch Lance by the back of his armor, steadying him.  "Woah there. We haven't even taken off yet."

"Yeah, well, it's kind of full in here."  Lance grabbed hold of the console to straighten himself.  "Blame Hunk, he hip checked me."

Hunk held up both his hands and frowned.  "It was you or Romelle, dude, and you’ve got armor."

"Oh, sure, save the pretty girl and throw your best friend under the bus."

Romelle pushed up on her tiptoes to peer over Hunk's shoulder.  "I'm good with that. Though I could definitely take it. I'm pretty sturdy, you know."

Stepping forward, Hunk snapped his hips threateningly to the side.  Romelle jumped out of the way, nearly crashing into Coran. "You want to try that out?"

"Enough."  Shiro said.  He picked Lance up by the back of the armor and floated him over to separate them both.  Lance went obligingly, limp like a kitten caught by the ruff. "If you can't behave, you guys can wait outside."

"We'll be good," Hunk swore, both his hands up.  

On Shiro's other side, Matt grinned toothly and crossed his arms.  "You wouldn’t have this problem if you were seated properly. Standing up like this is probably not great for you anyway, and dangerous in a fight.  We should really get you a chair like everyone below."

Considering him, Shiro narrowed his eyes.  He knew exactly what Matt was getting at. "Only if it's Picard's, not Kirk's."

"You  _ wound  _ me."

Before Shiro could tease more, his console beeped.

It was time.

The noise was quiet, but it was enough to end all the conversations.  Every eye in the room snapped onto Shiro.

He took a deep breath, then straightened.

Shiro was the Captain.  No one could take that from him, not on this ship.

The bond  _ resonated, _ again and again.  In time with Shiro’s racing heartbeat.

"Are we prepared for take off?"  He asked, voice steady.

"Yes, Sir."  Veronica nodded to him from her new position to Slav's right.  "All systems are functional and ready for flight."

Shiro nodded.  "Engage engines."

As Sam raised his hand to touch the console, the ship thrummed, and the engines began to hum.   Across the room, Slav sat up straighter, eyes wide, and then two of his hands yanked out of his pockets and began to rapidly tap on his tablet.

That would be something to deal with later, but not with the admirals in the room and the whole world watching.  Instead, Shiro nodded to Sam. "Take us up."

"Yes, Captain."

Atlas' engines hummed louder as the ship shuddered, and then rose up without the need for forward momentum.  The crew were all used to that, but both admirals stiffened as they were gently jolted.

As they rose, Shiro closed his eyes and concentrated.  When he opened them again, the bridge seemed to be made of glowing blue lines and racing energy.  Something shifted and tensed in the back of his mind, like a runner getting into position at the start of a race.

"Holding steady at 700 feet," Veronica reported.  "Ready to change modes when you are, Sir."

This was it.

Shiro closed his eyes against the strange, ghostly image of the bridge and smiled.  "Prepare for shift in three.... two... one."

He reached for the bond and sank in.

The ship began to move.

Shiro's awareness spread past his body, similar to the way it used to in Voltron.  He could feel the limbs shifting, the body forming. This wasn't just a ship - this was  _ Atlas, _ so much more than the pieces of metal that held it together.  More than the crystal that served as the heart as well, just as the lions were more than the meteor that had built them.

Atlas formed, landing and balancing on both legs.

The bridge went wild with good-natured cheers.

Then the bond gripped back.

Shiro's eyes snapped open just as energy shot through his body.  He tensed against it, staring blankly ahead. He heard the conversation and congratulations, but it didn't penetrate his mind.  All of his focus was entirely on the jolts running from his arm to his head.

What was wrong with him?  This couldn't be Haggar. They'd taken the arm, he was good now.  Allura and Coran had said the arm was fine. Shiro was supposed to be safe?

Someone called his name.  Keith repeated it, louder and more worried.  The conversations started to die away again as they realized Shiro wasn't responding.

He should respond.

But something in his head snapped and clicked, and Shiro couldn't breathe around the panic.

Not again.  Not again. He couldn't-

_ Calm. _

The emotion flooded Shiro.  He took a deep breath as his body started to respond again.  The energy that had locked him up faded into a soothing warmth.

"I'm okay," he said.  Even his own voice sounded distant.  "Just give me a second."

"Shiro?" Keith repeated, now right beside him.  "What's wrong?"

There was a swell of indignation that didn't belong to Shiro.  It was childishly powerful, like a pout. This was not wrong, the feeling said. This was good.  The  _ best. _

That definitely wasn't Haggar. 

In fact, Shiro knew exactly who it was.

"I'm fine," he repeated.  Then, realizing how that sounded, he shot Keith a smile.  "I really am. It was just a surprise."

"What was?" Pidge asked, peering around Keith's side.  She looked him over with clear concern, but curiosity was starting to shine through.

Shiro smiled.

"Atlas was just saying hello.  I think she woke up."

There was a pause, then more conversations erupted.  Nearly a dozen people all asked questions at once, their words blending together into a sea of noise.

Shiro closed his eyes.

Hello, Atlas.

_ Hello, World. _

....Yes, that was definitely Sam Holt's handiwork.

This was going to be  _ interesting. _

 


	2. Circling these Vultures (Shiro's newfound longevity hits)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Shiro fused with his clone, he ended up in a body without a death sentence.
> 
> He knew that. But he didn't feel it.

"You're going to kill yourself like that."

Shiro looked up from his plate, smiling at Hunk as best he could with a huge forkful of food in his mouth.  It took several long seconds for him to chew and swallow. "The Galra and space couldn't kill me. I don't think mac and cheese will be my end."

Hunk snorted and sat down with his own tray of food.  "I don't think you can punch your way out of choking."

"I've punched my way out of worse."

At this awkward time of day, Atlas' commissary was mostly empty.  The lunch rush was long since over, and dinner wasn't for a couple of hours yet.  But Shiro had made sure they had supplies and staff so that food was always available.  At the time, he'd worried that was wasteful. But given the odd times meetings always seemed to end, and how space battles did not follow the Garrison's usual strict meal schedule, it had worked out.

If that meant Shiro could get a meal that wasn't goo whenever he wanted, it was worth it.

Hunk tucked into his own meal with far less enthusiasm.  He had a little of each cafeteria offering on his plate, and he tried each one individually, before picking out the mashed potatoes and broccoli as the most edible.  He pointedly turned his tray so his own mac and cheese was as far from him as possible.

Chewing around another mouthful, Shiro watched the procedure with open interest.  He'd never been what anyone would call a picky eater, so Hunk's selection process was an entertaining mystery.  

Once the show was over, Shiro nodded to the kitchens.  "I'd offer to introduce you to the staff, but I'm not looking forward to the inevitable revolt."

Hunk wrinkled his nose.  "I'll get used to it. I got used to the goo.  And- well, okay, I might have a little word with them.  Just a few. They can't be that mad at me, right? I helped save the world."

Glancing back over at the door to the kitchen, Shiro snorted.  "If I lose my staff, you're helping me hire new ones."

"You should have let me help in the first place."  Hunk sighed and sipped at his water. "It's not even their fault, though.  It's a matter of ingredients, too. The good stuff won't last long in space."

"We'll start resupplying at alien worlds pretty soon anyway," Shiro said.  "You're probably the foremost expert on what ingredients work for humans and which don't.  You can be in charge of that, and show them how to use it when we have some time. How's that?"

Immediately, Hunk brightened.  "Oh, that's a good point. Yeah, that'll work.  Thank you." He dug in much more happily, though his eyes darted to watch Shiro's new right arm float up and down as he ate.  "How'd your appointment go? All clear on the arm?"

Shiro put down his fork and held the hand out in front of him, curling each finger in turn.  "Yeah, everything checked out. No leftover alien metal, no other surprises, and no problems from the cloning process.   A clean bill of health."

It had been odd, actually.  Usually, a doctor's visit left him feeling grimly resigned.  He'd walked into the office, ready for whatever new twist would be thrown his way.  Part of him had been sure they'd find some new problem. Either it would be a tracking or recording device in some gruesome place inside him, or he’d find out that making and aging hundreds of clones in a year caused long-term damage.

None of that had been true.  Doctor Fraiser and smiled up at him and told him that Shiro was healthy, and to have a nice day.  

Just like that.

Shiro had smiled back, nodded, and gone to get a late lunch.

He was relieved, but it was in a distant way.  It didn't feel  _ real _ yet.  This wasn't how the universe worked.  There was always something. Another shoe, another hit, something to steel himself against while he kept moving.

"That's great!"  Hunk said, grinning easily.  He took a big bite of his broccoli.  "One less thing to worry about. There's enough stuff that's way more interesting.  Like that project Pidge asked you about."

Of course.  Shiro rolled his eyes, but he had to hide his smile behind the rim of his glass.  From Hunk's shining gaze, he didn't do a very good job at disguising his amusement.  "I'm not sure it's viable. I'd feel more comfortable if the back-up plan isn't 'hope we don't burn out Atlas completely'."

"There's almost no way we would.   The power that crystal puts out is pretty ridiculous."  Hunk dropped his fork to fold both his hands together, eyes huge and pleading.  "We have a source of near-infinite power, Shiro! You can't expect us not to want to play with it.  It would be just one little test. Wouldn't invisibility cloaking be great on Atlas anyway? We could take this big ship anywhere and no one would see us!"

Shiro leaned back and straightened his shoulders so he could look down his nose at Hunk.  The posture always made him feel like Iverson dealing with the first class of rowdy cadets.  Hunk was supposed to be one of the calmer paladins, but rousing his curiosity made him easily among the most dangerous.  "How much power is it going to take to cloak all of Atlas, exactly? I've seen how much it takes for the smallest lion."

Slumping, Hunk poked at the mashed potato mound with one finger.  "Well, we're not exactly sure."

"I definitely feel confident now, thank you."

"It's a lot of factors!  It has to be able to transform with Atlas, too!  We don't need to cloak Green while they attached to Voltron."  He sighed. "We'll do some more calculations."

Shiro let him stew for a moment, until he was confident that Hunk was thinking through the risks fully.  Then he smiled. "Get me a report on the output and run it by Coran, and then you can. While we're landed, and all other non-essential systems are off.  I don't want to blow a fuse in mid space."

Immediately, Hunk surged back up.  "Seriously? Yes! Thank you, Shiro. It's going to be great.  You know me and Pidge, we wouldn't break your nice new ship. We like Atlas."

"I do too.  Don't make me regret this.  If we get stranded, you five are towing us somewhere we can get Atlas fixed up."  Shiro went back to his mac and cheese, relaxing his posture now that he wasn't forcing Hunk to justify himself.

Hunk watched the switch, his brows rising. "It's weird to watch you do that."  He copied the motion, sitting up straight and puffing out his chest, then slumping back down to his normal posture.  "Like that really old Superman movie."

"I hope you mean the first one."  Even so, Shiro beamed at Hunk, flattered at the comparison.  

Shrugging, Hunk smiled back.  "Dunno, I don't know Superman stuff that well.  So, sure. That one." He focused back on his own meal again, but he watched Shiro through his bangs.  "Seriously, though. I have no idea how you stomach that stuff."

Shiro looked down at his plate, specifically the mostly finished pile of mac and cheese, as well as the small container of jello that served as dessert.  "I like it." Before Hunk could open his mouth, he held up his hand. "I know, I know. I've heard every complaint in the book. It's basically plastic. Save yourself the trouble."

"It's just amazing to watch you get through it."  Hunk sighed and shook his head. "It wouldn't be so bad if you'd gotten sides with it.  Like, vegetables. They're not super fresh, but they at least would break up that thick mound."

"I eat vegetables."  Shiro squinted at him and pointed threateningly with his fork.  "Is this leading up to a joke about my age? Do not make me regret you all learning my birthday."

Hunk held up his hands and shook his head.  "Nope, honest concern here. You're the Captain of the Atlas, now.  It's not even like being a paladin of Voltron. We literally have no idea if anyone else can connect with Atlas like you have.  So let's not kill you with a heart attack before you're 30, is all."

Shiro set his jaw and rolled his eyes, used to the familiar phrasing.  He'd heard some variation of that far too many times, and it was always well meant.  But Shiro had to physically bite back a snort. What did it matter, anyway? It wasn't like-

Wait.

Shiro froze, eyes wide as he stared straight ahead.

The world crystallized, centering around knowledge that had been floating through his head, but hadn't  _ meant _ anything.

It actually mattered.  It  _ mattered _ now.  All those vague, nagging threats.  'You'll regret this when you're older'.   Warnings that his knees would wear out too fast if he pushed himself this hard for long.  That eating certain foods could cause health problems down the line. That cashing in all his influence so young and so fast would hurt his career later, would keep him from making friends.

None of that had meant anything, because Shiro wasn't supposed to be around to see it.  He'd be out of the Garrison by his late twenties at best, and from there it was just a matter of how fast he declined.

But not anymore.

For the first time in nearly twenty years, Shiro had to care about farther than the next few years.  He had to plan for the future. He had to be ready for decades more life.

He had  _ no plan. _

Shiro's fork slipped from between his still fingers.  He fumbled it, and caught it by the still cheesy prongs.  Making a face, he dropped it onto his plate and went for his napkin.

Hunk watched the whole thing, his brows furrowed.  "Shiro? Did I say something wrong?"

"No.  I just..."  He blinked rapidly, struggling to focus.  But the thoughts crowded his head, drowning out the conversation with the sheer volume.  What did Shiro want to be doing in five years? In ten? In  _ thirty?   _ He'd gone so much farther than he'd expected from his life expectancy.  He'd hoped for the Kerberos mission, maybe a promotion to Commander when he returned, if he was lucky.  After that, his plan had been...

Well, once it had been 'Adam', whatever that meant.  After, he'd tried not to think about it.

Now he had to think about later.  He had to think about taking care of his body, about managing money for longer than the next few years, about healthy diets, about branching career paths.  He had to worry about future relationships, retirement, aging.

The thousands of little things he'd quietly accepted weren't ever going to be his.  The hundreds of times that Shiro had nodded through a conversation where people talked about the future, and kept silent.

"Shiro?"  Hunk's voice pitched up.  He stood and reached over the table, gently shaking Shiro by his left shoulder.  "Hey! What's wrong? Should I get a doctor?"

Right, conversation.  Hunk. Shiro shook his head, first to focus, and then to answer Hunk's question. "No.  No, I'm good. A thought just hit me. You're right, and I-" He stood suddenly, forcing himself to his feet.  "I need... I think I need to talk to Keith. Do you know where he is?"

Hunk blinked rapidly.  "Um, I think he was still working on making sure Kosmo didn't follow him around during training.  He might be in his rooms?"

"Good.  Okay, thank you." Shiro started to stumble in that direction, then abruptly turned and stood in front of Hunk instead.  He put his hands on either shoulder and looked him very seriously in the eye. "Can you teach me more about nutrition?"

Startling as he was suddenly grabbed, Hunk bobbed his head.  "Yeah? I mean, yes, I can, I think. I don't know how much you know, but- like, just vitamins, or how to make healthy food?"

"Both."

"Um, I can at least do the second, and I can try on the first?"  Hunk's hands curled up against his chest. "What's going on?"

Shiro nodded distractedly.  Then he pulled Hunk into a vague, loose hug, patting him on the back.  "Nothing's wrong. It's good. I just- I'll talk about it later, okay? I probably owe you guys that.  But I need to- Keith. And tray." He looked down at his mostly eaten tray of food.

Patting him back, Hunk gave Shiro a gentle shove.  "I'll take care of it. You go and take care of... whatever's up with you."

Shiro shouldn't do that, but he also really, really didn't want to bother with his tray.  Not when his head was so full of fog and thoughts. So he just gave Hunk a flash of a smile.  "Thank you. I owe you. Two things. Many things. Bye!" With that, he set off for the hallway at a jog.

As he went, Shiro heard Hunk call, "bye," after him.  Then, after a pause, "what the  _ fuck?" _

Shiro was going to have a lot to explain, but that wasn't important right now.  What was important was finding Keith.

The door to Keith's rooms opened before he could so much as knock.  Inside, Krolia stood with her hand up, like she'd been about to leave.  She visibly startled at the sight of Shiro suddenly filling the doorway, off hand twitching for the blade she wasn't wearing.  "Shiro!"

"Sorry.  Atlas opened it.  Shouldn't do that, I'll remind her.  Um." Shiro stepped inside, carefully weaving around Krolia so he get step into the living room space.  "Is Keith here- oh." He spotted Keith standing up from the couch. 

"Are you okay?" Keith asked, tensing at the sight of him.  "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Like with Hunk, Shiro couldn't string his thoughts together to coherently answer the question.  

What came out was, "I'm not going to die."

Silence filled the quarters.

Keith swallowed hard.  "Mom? I can handle this."

"Right."  Krolia looked between them both, her lips pressed thin.  But then she nodded. "I'll be nearby if you need me." With that, she stepped out, and the door shut firmly behind her.

Stepping around the couch, Keith looked Shiro over.  "I'm guessing you got a clean bill of health, then? I thought they already checked when they replaced your arm."

Shiro nodded.  "Yeah. They said.  And the pod- I looked over that data, when we were coming to Earth.  I wasn't sure if the pod could even tell, so I didn't say anything. And I didn't..."  He shook his head. "It wasn't real. Keith, it wasn't real. Most of my life I knew what was going to happen to me, but now I don't know anymore."

Brow furrowed, Keith stopped in front of Shiro.  "But it's a good thing," he said forcefully, trying to making sure Shiro believed it by sheer force of will.  "You know that, right? You're not going to die. I thought you'd be happy about that." 

"I am!"  Shiro stopped, then shook his head.  "I think I am. It's good. I want to live.  But..." He stepped back so he could lean against the wall, then looked around like there was some hint of what he was supposed to say next.  "What do I do now?"

Keith took a tentative step forward, like he wasn't sure he should follow.  When Shiro didn't flinch, he moved to lean next to him, their shoulders pressed warmly together.  "Whatever you want, I guess. Does it matter what you do? You'll be around to do it. That's all I care about."  His gaze was unflinchingly direct as he wrapped his fingers around Shiro's wrist like an anchor.

It helped.  Both points of contact kept Shiro grounded in reality, not letting him float off into his thoughts and worries like before.  "I mean, yes. And I know I'm going to do this some more. That's good. I want to keep being Atlas' Captain. But what about during that?  What about after? What about between?"

Frowning, Keith slowly shook his head.  "I don't understand."

"What's your plan, Keith?"

Keith opened his mouth, then closed it.  His brow furrowed as he gave the question honest thought.  "For the future? I don't know. I never really spent a lot of time thinking about it until Voltron.  I'd kind of hoped to find out more about my family and my mom, and I did that. I don't really want to stop and retire on Earth or something.  Flying the Black Lion works for me, and if I give that up at some point, I could probably work with the Blade of Marmora too. I think Mom and Kolivan would like that."

That wasn't the answer Shiro wanted.  The frustration burned through him, directionless and cloying.  "I mean, what do you want out of life? What- ugh." He slid down the wall, his legs folded up in front of him and his forehead pressed against his knees as he tried to breathe through it.

Keith came down too, landing heavily on his knees next to Shiro.  He scooted over to sit in front of him instead, eyes bright with worry.  "Shiro, please. I want to help. What do you need?"

"Everything!"  Shiro threw his left arm wide, gesturing to the universe at large.  "I don't know how to do this, Keith. I've never had to care about what happened after I was 35.  I mean- I wanted the people I care about to be okay, and I would have liked to have left a mark on the world, at least for a little while.  But I don't know how to... I don't have a retirement fund. I don't know how to set one up. I don't really know how to do my taxes. I've never rented an apartment that wasn't through the Garrison.  I don't know how to buy a house. I don't know how to do any of that. I stopped learning! I didn't care! What did it matter if something could give me a heart attack by 50? Why should I care if radiation from engines could become cancer in 20 years?"

Keith sat back for the whole rant, letting Shiro get it out.  He moved his vice-like grip to Shiro's knee instead, digging his fingers in like if not Shiro was going to get up and walk away from him.  "I don't think you have to worry about some of those things for a while. You live on the Atlas, and you're going to for the next while, you said.  The retirement stuff you can probably look up, and I bet you have a lot of back pay from when you were supposed to be dead, right?"

Slowly, Shiro nodded.  "Yeah. Iverson said. I was supposed to figure out the bank account situation and I put it off.  That's what I mean, Keith!" He looked up, feeling heat build up behind his eyes. "I do that. I'm not used to caring.   I should care about getting my back pay. That's important! But I thought 'I'm going to be on the Atlas and I won't need it', because I didn't think about after.  I haven't thought about after Voltron, or after Atlas, or any of it."

"Oh."  Keith slowly nodded.  "I think I get what you're saying now.  Yeah, it's going to be an adjustment. I'm sure Iverson and Holt and whoever are happy to help with that.  Holt had to do the same thing already, and Matt's probably figuring it out too." He rocked Shiro's knee back and forth, knocking it against his other leg to get Shiro's attention.  "You don't need to have everything figured out, you know. You're in your 20s. You're- fuck, how old are you, now?"

Shiro let out a flat burst of laughter.  "My driver's license says I'm 29. So I guess 26?"

"26 is not the age you're supposed to have your entire life figured out, I don't think.  At least, I don't think I will at 26." Keith leaned back on his heels and looked Shiro over.  "You know, something I noticed back at the Garrison. You always had a plan for the day. You knew you were going to be studying, or recruiting, or training, or with me.  It took months to get you to do something on the fly."

Shiro shrugged and ducked his head.  "Yeah, I had a lot to fit into my day.  It was easier to schedule it out to make sure I did everything in time."

Poking him on the knee, Keith nodded.  "That's what I mean. You had everything figured out, and since the Kerberos mission you've been... coasting, I think?  Especially at the beginning." He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. "It was like you were just getting your affairs in order, some days."

He wasn't wrong.  Shiro had felt exactly like that, like he'd been living on borrowed time.  When he'd attacked Matt to injure him, Shiro had thought that was the end. He'd been ready, for at least that minute.  He'd done his last good dead, traded his short life for someone who could live far longer and do so much more. It had felt fair.  Right.

Then, Shiro hadn't died.

He'd continued to not die, despite everything the universe threw at him.  Shiro had never been willing to go quietly into the night. If death was going to get him, it was going to have to  _ work _ for it.  That was only fair too.

But that was never a fight Shiro was supposed to win. Myzax, the Galra, Zarkon - each villain more ancient and powerful than the last.  Each one an impossible fight.

And each time, Shiro didn't die.

Then, the last and greatest opponent.  His own body. His own failing health.

He'd lost the battle, but Shiro had still won in the end.  It had taken the Black Lion catching his essence, and merging with his own clone.  A series of events Shiro still couldn't fathom, even after living them.

At the time, Shiro had just wanted to leave the universe better than he found it.  His last good act, over and over and over. One more, one more.

He'd been trying to do right by the universe and by himself.  In the process, Keith had been hurt. When Shiro left for Kerberos, when he pushed Keith to lead Voltron, when he'd died.

Reaching out, Shiro dropped his knees and pulled Keith in for a tight hug.  "I was. I'm sorry."

"I wasn't- I wasn't trying to make you feel bad."  Despite the words, Keith didn't pull away. Instead he leaned in harder, clinging to Shiro's uniform.  "I just mean that either you had your time planned out, or you thought you were out of it. And now you have a lot of time, and I don't think you know what to do with it."

Shiro let out a wild, wet laugh.  "Yeah. I feel like everyone else has a head start.  Most people at least expect to live their full lives.  They have an idea of what they want."

"Everyone thinks they have time, so they don't plan to the minute."  Keith pulled back so he could look Shiro in the eye. "Almost no one else has a plan, Shiro.  They're not ahead of you, they're not winning a race you didn't plan on entering. You're doing fine."

Damn him.  Damn him for seeing exactly to the heart of the problem, even when Shiro couldn't.

Shiro's throat closed up.  He coughed, but the motion turned into a sob, and then another.  He slammed his eyes shut, but it did nothing to stem the burning heat behind his eyes.

Apparently he didn't need to.  Keith pulled him in for another hug, this time angling them so Shiro's face pressed into his shoulder.  "You're going to live. Shiro, you have time. You have all the time you need, and I'll be there the whole time."

Finally, the tears pushed past Shiro's lids.  He pulled Keith to him as they leaked out, trying and failing to keep his breathing even.  He shook through the force of his emotions, choking on each sob that forced out of him.

Keith didn't say anything about it.  He didn't even tell Shiro it was okay.  He just soothed up and down Shiro's back and let him get it out.

When the worst of the storm passed, Shiro pulled away and impatiently wiped his cheeks off, as though the tears were an inconvenience.  "Sorry."

"Don't be.  Not even a little."  Keith shuffled back so Shiro could get air.  "Better?"

"Yeah."  Shiro shot Keith a smile, thankful but not quite able to say it yet.  It would mean acknowledging his crying more than he wanted to just yet.  Instead, he let his eyes wander around the room. It was mostly neat, and typically spartan of Keith.  There was a soft looking throw over the couch, and a few dusty looking items that were probably from the cabin.  The only other sign of personality were the dog toys littering the floor.

Shiro froze.  Then his eyes tracked up to meet Keith, his own wide.

"What?" Keith asked, brow furrowed.  

"I can get a dog."   Awe bloomed in Shiro, filling his chest with warmth.  "I can get a dog."

A dog.  Shiro had wanted a dog since he was a boy, but it had never been in the cards.  Either his grandfather hadn't wanted another rambunctious little creature to look after, or Shiro had been living at the Galaxy Garrison, which didn't allow for non-service pets.  Even if they could, it wasn't responsible. Shiro didn't know how long he had left, either to live or to be mobile. It wasn't fair to get a dog if he didn't know he could walk it in a couple of years.  To adopt and then turn the dog over to someone else so soon would have been cruel to the poor animal.

Now, Shiro didn't have to worry about that.  Atlas already had two canines running around.  What was another?

Shiro could  _ get a dog. _

A smile, both sad proud, flickered over Keith's face.  "Yeah, you can. But you also promised to watch Kosmo while I'm on missions, and he's already a handful."

Shiro chuckled, though it came out raspy.  "That's true. Who knows what the lifespan of a space wolf is, either?"

"He'll let me know."

Fondness bubbled up in Shiro, overwhelming him until he grabbed Keith in another brief squeeze.  "Thank you. For everything. For always being there."

Keith froze, then leaned into the hug.  "Yeah, well, you started it. I'm just repaying the favor."

"You need to cut it out, or else I'm going to end up owing you."

"You'll never owe me."  Keith relaxed against Shiro, the hint of a smile curling up his lips.  Then he squirmed backward. "If you want to get a dog, you should practice now."

Shiro's brows jumped up to his hairline.  "Practice what, exactly?"

Keith just smirked and whistled.  A moment later, there was a flash of blue light as Kosmo appeared, tense like he was looking for a fight.  When he only saw Keith and Shiro, his tail started to wag and his ears perked up.

"Get him, Kosmo."

Uh oh.

Shiro tried to scramble away, but it was impossible to outrun a teleporting dog.  Immediately, there was another flash, and then the full weight of a wolf crashed down on his chest.  Shiro went down hard, and groaned as his face was covered in wet, enthusiastic licks. "Kosmo! Kosmo, no. Down!  Down, boy!"

His protests did nothing.  He couldn't even manage to make them sound convincing, not when he was laughing so hard.

Crossing his arms, Keith watched with open satisfaction.  "Looks like you still have a lot to learn about training a dog."

"This is a space wolf.  It's totally diffe- agh!  Kosmo!" Shiro twisted his face away, only for Kosmo to try licking inside of his ear canal.  "Gross, no! No, bad wolf!"

It took several minutes for Keith to take pity and call Kosmo off.  By that point, Shiro was thoroughly covered in canine saliva. He was not only rethinking his dog plan, but how he'd allowed pets in general on the ship.

While he did his best to wipe off his face, Keith pulled Kosmo over both their laps to pet, then knocked their shoulders together.  "Hey, Shiro. You're going to live."

The words hit, but this time, they weren't nearly so overwhelming.  Instead, Shiro smiled.

"Yeah.  I am."


	3. Like A Final Piece (Black Lion)

Shiro stared at the door in front of him, his hand hovering over the console. His fingers curled in the open air, at once tempted to touch down and curl away.

In the darkness of the night cycle, Atlas was quiet. There were others awake at this time, as the burgeoning night watch fell into habits that would serve them in deep space. But no one was in this particular section of the ship. Very few people used it, and the main group was hopefully fast asleep.  Shiro was alone, now.

This was the entrance to the Lions' hangar.

Shiro had both every reason and no reason at all to be here. Atlas was his ship, and there was nowhere off limits from him. It was a strangely freeing feeling, after years of first Garrison living, then his captivity, and finally feeling like a guest aboard a royal vessel. This was  _ his, _ and he knew every inch down to the bolts. Shiro hadn't helped build her, but Atlas lived in the back of his mind. He knew her.

But he wasn't a paladin. At least, not in the way that had him don the armor and step into the lions. He was Captain of the Atlas, not the Head of Voltron. So he had no more business snooping around in this hangar than an Admiral would going through his personal vehicle back at the Garrison.

Except…

Well, it was a little more complicated than that.

Besides, Shiro couldn’t lie to himself and say anyone would mind. If he dared to ask, to breathe his vague plans into reality by speaking them out loud, he would have been encouraged to do this. Keith, at the very least, would have pushed him to try.

After all, he'd asked Shiro to try flying again several dozen times on the way to Earth.

Shiro had always, always said no.

Tonight, for the first time since Allura had pulled him from the lion, Shiro thought he could say yes.

But his hand still hovered over the controls. Unsure. Scared.

Scared of the lion who had saved his life. Of the lion who had loved him.

Scared of the force that had drawn his essence into itself and left him there.

Shiro swallowed hard. The ship around him hummed, the quiet thrum of quintessence powered lights and environmental controls. It was barely audible now, but it would get subtly louder when they were in deep space. Honestly, Shiro was glad for it. He'd slept poorly when they lived on the Garrison base, unused to the sounds of booted patrols and lack of Castle's white noise.

Now, it was a reminder that he wasn't alone. That Atlas was with him.

At the thought, there was a press against his mind. Atlas crowded in close, eager and clinging. The presence wound around his chest and sank in like painless claws.

Shiro sent back a wave of fondness, flowing gently through both like a slow river. He hadn't forgotten about Atlas. He doubted he ever could.

For once, the affirmation didn't seem to soothe the presence. The claws sank in deeper, and the winding tendrils tightened.

Sending back another soothing thought, Shiro took a deep breath. He took solace in Atlas' presence and the reminder of his new role. He was the Captain, and he had no need to be afraid. This was Black.

With that, Shiro finally put his hand down on the console.

It beeped in reaction, but otherwise didn't react.

Shiro blinked at the unmoving door and repeated the gesture. The door made the correct noise, acknowledging his presence and validity. But it didn't open.

A glitch?

No, not that.

“Atlas,” Shiro said firmly. “Let me in.”

_ No. _

It wasn't a word so much as a sulky burst of denial.

Shiro sighed and rested his forehead on the door. He shoved his reassurances down the bond without bothering to hide a growing kernel of frustration. It had taken months to rebuild the courage to come up here and now Atlas wanted to stop him?

There was a tugging sensation on his right arm. The whole thing floated back several inches.

A memory rose, unbidden. Shiro felt the rush of the first time he'd bonded with Atlas, saw the ghostly double-image of the bridge. There was fear and worry for his team and for the fledgling crew, and an overwhelming desire to protect the small blue marble that his current body had only recently set foot on.

But below that, ignored at the time, was relief. A balm for a loneliness he hadn't dared admit to anyone, including himself. He had been alone in his head for the first time since his original captivity. His bond with the Black Lion had been broken. Shiro had been left adrift in the aftermath, not sure about his place on the team and in the wider universe. Until that moment he bonded with Atlas, Shiro had felt like a ghost tagging along for the ride, dragged on by the team's love and his own overdeveloped survival instinct.

In that moment, Shiro had been thankful he wasn't too broken for someone to find him worthy.

The memory retracted, leaving Shiro panting hard. His eyes burned from emotion he had shoved away so fiercely at the time, but now he couldn't avoid.

Atlas rattled in his head, circling and puffed up like a cornered animal.  _ No. _

Closing his eyes, Shiro took a deep breath. “I see how you came to that conclusion. But it's not like that.”

The memory stirred again, though it didn't overwhelm Shiro like before. It was more like Atlas was shaking it in emphasis.

Shiro had felt alone. Broken. Unworthy. Pointless.

Atlas blamed the Black Lion.

Well, that certainly explained some of her behavior. Atlas has been known to act childishly during downtime. Shiro rarely saw it himself, especially as rebelliously as right now. But he'd heard from Keith the way that Atlas would sometimes refuse to allow Black re-entry, or heard from Slav that the Black Lion's charging mechanism always seemed to run sub-optimally. Once, the entire hangar had gone dark, not even the screens responding, and the team had to turn on the lions' eye lights to pick their way out.

Shiro had spoken to Atlas, and either got ignored or insincere apologies. It was frustrating, since the ship wasn't supposed to run off on emotions like that. But she never tried anything when it was actually important, and it wasn't like Shiro could make Atlas do anything.

(Shiro had also been accused of being overly indulgent with the ship. Sam called it 'bad parenting', to which Shiro had responded that Atlas was more Sam's child than his own. That had launched into a debate over Atlas being considered Pidge and Matt's half-sister, and the whole thing had devolved.)

So Shiro had just let it go.

Maybe he should have pressed. But Shiro wasn't sure he could have had this conversation before now.

It wasn't Black's fault. If it was anyone's fault, it was Shiro's. He knew better than to tie his self-esteem so deeply to his career. It had burned him before.

Immediately, Atlas surged up in his mind. Her presence circled in his mind, bright with indignation. Another memory bubbled up, this time technically the clone's. Standing in front of the Black Lion, expecting to jump back in, and getting no response at all. How deep the icy silence had cut Shiro, had left him snappish and furious afterward, despite his attempts to stay calm.

The memory skipped forward to after, where Shiro had apologized to Keith for overriding and snapping at him. “You're the Black Lion's true paladin,” he'd said, and the words had cut his throat like coughing up thorns.

Atlas' rage burned, loud and futile. Shiro's right fingers clenched into a fist and shook with the force of emotions that weren't his own.  _ No no no! _

“You want me to be the Black Paladin?” Shiro asked, amused to cover his own answering sadness. Yes, it had hurt at the time. Honestly, it still hurt, even understanding what had been happening outside of the clone's knowledge. “Then I couldn't be your Captain.”

The feeling of claws sank in further, and Shiro was suddenly surrounded by firm warmth, like being hugged by a sentient, invisible blanket. Atlas rumbled with possessiveness. But even so, the indignation continued, a tantrum only a child could properly throw.

Shiro saw himself through Atlas' eyes. Smiling, happy, confident. Healing. A well of determination and kindness, a steady heart in crisis, the ability to stand between any threat and those he loved.

While he was still recovering from that, Atlas darkly mused on shutting her hangar doors on the Black Lion's tail and how fun it had been.

Apparently Shiro was a wonderful, perfect captain. But wanting to keep him didn't stop Atlas from scorning the Black Lion's decision. Keith was alright, in her eyes. Good enough for the Black Lion, surely. But Atlas couldn't understand why anyone would pass up on Shiro.

“Because I needed her to.”

Atlas scoffed and rattled the bridge memory again.

“I did!” Shiro closed his eyes and sighed. Clearly he wasn't going to get through to Atlas just by saying so. Instead, he dug deep and pulled out a memory of his own.

The impression of it was tattered and faded, like it had aged a hundred years in just the past few months. Shiro remembered his clone's memories more clearly of his own in the same time frame. He had no physical brain to imprint the experience on in the first place. Even putting that aside, Shiro suspected his human mind just wasn't capable of understanding the experience. He'd been part of the Black Lion, part of something huge, galactic, alien. Something between. The lions were not of their universe, not of their dimension.

Shiro remembered so little.

What he did remember was being made and unmade, over and over. He'd been lost inside the essence of another, reformed and lost in every moment. That was why he'd been so weak when he tried to reach out, so distant when Lance had managed to hear. It was only through their deep mutual connection to each other and to the lion that Keith had been able to reach him.

To the others, the interactions had been short bursts. Several seconds at a time of conversation.

To Shiro, those conversations had been mini-eternities. Every word, every syllable, every movement had been the result of constant, unending reformation. Each of those moments had been a conscious effort to reform himself and continue the same thought, the same noise.

Then, Shiro had woken up. In a body not his own, in a body that had actively tried to reject him. He'd had to readjust to being. A physical presence, a constant, something that continued to exist when his consciousness lapsed. Neurons, blood vessels, lungs, muscles, electric impulses. The messy realities of being organic.

Keith had asked, after. Offered Shiro the controls to Black, gave him the chance to take the seat back. He'd been too physically weak to try for long, but he could have at least sat down.

Shiro had said no, over and over. He'd told himself it was for the best. Black and Keith suited each other now. Keith had been the one Black wanted, when compared to the clone.

Really, it was fear.

Shiro looked at those controls and feared their touch. Feared being unmade again.

Once, Shiro would have given everything for the chance to live on. When his organic form was a constant, nagging priority, he would have killed for a way to continue without the looming Sword of Damocles over his neck.

As always, Shiro had gotten what he worked for, but in the worst possible way.  His own private curse, to wish his way into his own personal hell.

So he'd said no. Every time.

Until tonight.

Atlas was quiet. She didn't move or release her grip.

But then the door opened without so much as a thought from Shiro.

“Thank you,” Shiro said. He dropped his arms to his side and straightened his spine, then walked forward with purpose.

His arm floated slightly behind. A presence wound between his fingers and locked on, like Atlas was holding his hand and trailing after. But there was no resistance and no attempt to hold him back, so Shiro let it happen. If anything, he appreciated the support.

Above him, the Black Lion loomed. They sat, regal and composed, but still. Just like the very first time the doors had open and Shiro had seen them.

Then, Shiro had felt pure, sincere awe. He'd accepted the position as Black Paladin out of necessity. There was no one more experienced, and the cadets all looked to him.

It wasn't until that moment, when he felt so small but so chosen at the same time, that Shiro had believed this lion was for him.

Now, Shiro felt the echoes of that awe. He felt the same pride, the familiar fondness. He knew this lion, the same way Black knew him inside and out.

But Shiro was also afraid.

As he approached, the old bond stirred. The edges were tattered and frayed, but there was a faint impression of curiosity. Black saw him, but they weren't sure what to make of him.

Shiro stared up and held up a hand, palm out.

The Black Lion's eyes flickered on. Then, slowly, they laid down, until the cold metal pressed against Shiro's left hand.

The giant maw opened in welcome. Inside, more lights came on, though they flickered weakly. But the longer Shiro stared, the more they brightened.

Shiro swallowed hard, then stepped inside.

The presence on his right arm didn't lighten at all. If anything, it tightened, and Shiro felt the stirrings of Atlas' distrust. But it was childish. Sulky. Atlas didn't want to believe in the Black Lion, so she didn't.

A smile curled at Shiro's lips as he continued up. Then, with only a moment's hesitation, he sat down in the seat.

The screens turned on immediately, unfolding like a ripple. They brightened, but the cameras didn't engage to show the hangar.

Instead, Black waited for Shiro.

Except Shiro had never come up with a plan. He hadn't thought past trying. Part of him had expected that the torn remains of their bond wouldn't activate the Black Lion at all. Coming this far had been such an effort that Shiro just hadn't had the energy to think beyond.

Slumping back against the chair, Shiro let his right arm flop to the side, still held by Atlas. The other gripped at the fabric of his pants, like he was a nervous little boy in front of a teacher.

“Hello.”

A purr filled the cockpit. It rumbled through Shiro like ripples across the surface of a pond.

It felt like being pulled apart. Like being unmade, atom by atom.

Shiro stiffened and pushed himself backward, trying to get away from the sensation. His back pressed hard into the seat as he thoughtlessly scrambled, his natural nails scratching at the armrest in sheer alarm. No, he couldn't. Not again. He-

The presence around his hand tightened, then wrapped around his shoulders and chest in an instant. Atlas hissed back, and very ship seemed to tense and strain, like she was about to transform on the spot and eject the lions for good.

Black withdrew, apologetic and patient. They seemed utterly unbothered by Atlas and her implied threats. Instead, they were content to let Shiro compose himself, even if that meant withdrawing.

But the presence of Atlas helped, even if being ignored was igniting the ship's temper. It was a chain to the physical. Atlas wouldn't let Shiro be pulled apart and absorbed back into Black. That would mean letting him go, and she would never.

Slowly, Shiro gently ran the fingers of his left hand over his right, which was the closest he could get to petting Atlas. “It's alright. Black didn't hurt me.”

Atlas growled, still tense and unhappy. She nudged Shiro's attention to his elevated heartbeat and twisting stomach, then pointed accusingly at Black.

Sighing, Shiro shook his head. “That was me hurting myself, not Black. You can't blame them for a response I can't control or help.”

Judging by Atlas' sulky hug, she certainly could.

“I want you here. But if you can't be civil, maybe you shouldn't be.”

Atlas went cold from shock and dismay, then wound tighter around Shiro. The message was clear - 'make me.' But despite that, she did subside. The emotions retreated, leaving Shiro in relative privacy. He could still feel her presence, but at least he wasn't getting a constant commentary.

Taking a deep breath, Shiro focused on Black again. They continued to wait, now faintly amused at the byplay. They made no move to rush Shiro. After over ten thousand years of waiting, these few minutes must feel like nothing at all.

The months Shiro had spent inside the lion must have felt like nothing too.

Sobering, Shiro dropped his head. “I don't know what to say to you. Or to ask. I suppose I just wanted to say hello. Or goodbye, maybe. You and Keith have been doing well, after all.”

Curiosity rose up, like a dog tilting their head. Black reached slowly through the bond, gentle and tentative. Shiro went stiff again, tense in the chair, but this time the fear didn't overwhelm him. Black only pulled up on particular memory.

The astral plane flashed behind Shiro's eyes.

Immediately, he wrenched back. The already frayed connection tore further, and it felt like the tendrils were physically ripped out of Shiro's chest. He blinked back sudden, stinging tears and held his breath to keep from panting and showing his fear. The presence around his right hand tightened once again, but this time Atlas didn't speak.  Instead she was dangerously tense.

Black pulled back again, regret and pain flickering through the damaged bond. Instead, there was a ghostly sensation, like air blowing against Shiro's cheek.

_ Mine.  _ A quiet, confident possessiveness peeked through the bond. Shiro was still Black's, even if he was also Atlas'.

No, Shiro couldn't do that to Keith, to Atlas, to the team, to his crew. He liked the situation as it was. He liked being Captain, and being in command of what would be home. How could Black ask him to turn his back on that?

There was a spark of frustration, weak and distant. For the first time, Black felt properly annoyed. They reached out again for that same memory, but this time paused before pulling it up. Waited for Shiro's permission or denial.

Steeling himself, Shiro nodded.

The astral plane, dark and glimmering and endless. Blurred, as Shiro was thrown violently, bouncing off what served as ground and scrambling to his feet.

Zarkon standing before him, declaring he was still bonded, still the true Black Paladin.

The memory ended after just that flash. Black pulled away, both to give Shiro space and to avoid straining the wounded bond. They waited.

Shiro shook his head, not sure what the hell that was supposed to teach him, except to remind him how badly he'd been beaten down.

Then it clicked.

There could be two paladins. Zarkon had still been the Black Paladin when Shiro had taken the position, at least until he'd betrayed Black's trust completely.

Shiro hadn't done that. He would never, at least not under his own power.

He could be both. Even if he never acted on it again, even if ten thousand years went by, he could still be Black's paladin.

Once, the thought would have been pure elation. Now, a shiver ran up Shiro's spine.

Shiro looked down at his hands, one natural and one metal, and swallowed hard. “Would you do that again? Saving me like you did.”

There was a pause. The air brushed through Shiro's hair like a sigh and a pet all in one. Black reached again, but this time it wasn't for one specific memory. It was a series of them, from when Haggar had wounded him through his death. How desperately Shiro had wanted to live. His failing body had been a constant obsession, and each beat of his heart brought him closer to an inevitable future where he had to bow out. Or when he would slip up, make one mistake, react just a bit too slowly, and that would be it.

Shiro had wanted some way to never have to stop. To never have to die. To be the Black Paladin forever.

Oh.

Blinking rapidly, Shiro swallowed hard. He hadn't thought about how Black would interpret those thoughts. They hadn't been fully-formed. Just the frustrations of a slowly dying twenty-something, frustrated that he was ending so soon after he'd found a position worthy of his wildest dreams. That he hadn't thought he'd see it through to the end.

Black had tried to give him that.

Shiro had no one to blame for his slow torture but himself. He still wasn't sure if it was worth it or not.

Swallowing hard, Shiro slammed his eyes closed against the burn of tears. He was grateful, and he was hurt, and he was confused, and he was so, so lost.

Atlas moved, wrapping around his shoulders and pulling in tightly like a hug. At the same moment, Black shifted forward and rested against him, like a dog resting their head in his lap.

There wasn't an ounce of ill will between them. Both were just happy he was alive and there with them.

Was he, though? Shiro was an amalgamation of so many different sources, now. 

What was it that the Black Lion had saved? An impression of Shiro's soul? His quintessence? A copy of his mind? 

This body wasn't his either. It was copy number whatever, twisted and changed to suit Haggar. It made him healthy, but it made him  _ hers _ as well. The clone's memories melded with his own, yet another part that wasn't the Shiro who had died.

“Am I really him?” Shiro asked, voice raw. He hadn't dared ask anyone else, afraid of hurting them. Keith and Allura in particular would be stung by the question and the implication that they'd brought back someone else. “Am I still Takashi Shirogane?”

It was the Ship of Theseus problem, made terrifyingly real. If someone slowly replaced the parts of a ship until it was made of totally new parts, was it still the original ship?

If Shiro was made entirely of copies of copies, was he still himself?

Black purred again, quieter this time. Shiro still froze, but this time it didn't panic him quite so badly. Something nudged him in the chest, heavy and warm. It moved up to his heart and stayed there.

_ Yes. _ There was a tap against Shiro's heart.

He was the same person in his heart, in his bond, and therefore he was still Takashi Shirogane.

At the same time, Atlas nudged at the side of his head and gave a mighty shrug. Atlas didn't care who Takashi Shirogane had been. But her adoration was clear. Whoever Shiro was now, Atlas loved him as he was. It didn't matter who he had been or who he wasn't. As far as she was concerned, Shiro was perfect.

The answers were vastly different, but they were both immediate and filled with love.

Slowly, Shiro relaxed. For the first time in months, his shoulders unwound and he breathed easily inside the Black Lion.

He'd turned the questions over and over in his mind so many times, afraid of the answer if he looked too deep. But Black was the closest thing to an authority he could have on the subject. And Atlas' perspective was just refreshing. Shiro didn't have to be exactly who he'd been. Who he was now was good. Exactly right for the job.

He was enough.

As the fear started to drain away, exhaustion filled in behind it. Shiro didn't know how late it was, but he had to be pushing dawn, and he had an early day tomorrow.

The lights of the cockpit dimmed, and the small space heated up. It would be difficult to call the Black Lion comfortable to sleep in, despite how many weeks they'd done just that. But the invitation was still clear.

Shiro waited for Atlas' inevitable protest, but it didn't come. Mind, she didn't let go of him for an instant, but she didn't throw a tantrum over it.

It was a bad idea to sleep in his uniform and without taking a shower. He was going to be a mess tomorrow.

But right now he was warm and safe. He didn't want to move, as if it would disturb either of the two presences in the chair with him. Having them so viscerally present was like having a dog nap on him. It felt wrong to get up.

Atlas snuggled in shamelessly at the thought.

Smiling, Shiro nodded and closed his eyes. “Will you set an alarm for me, Black?” There was a rumble in reply, though no clock appeared on the darkened screen. “Thank you.”

With that, Shiro closed his eyes and let himself drift.

In the back of his mind, he felt the bond to Black begin to stitch up and heal. It was still a ragged, wounded thing compared to what it had been, or against the current bond with Atlas.

But it was getting better.

So was Shiro.

 


End file.
